Vector
by Chash
Summary: (Hanazakari No Kimitachi E) Mizuki reflects on what she has become since she came to Japan.


Vector

By Chash

Disclaimer: Please don't sue.  It's not mine.  

Notes:  In Japanese, it is exceedingly rude to refer to yourself using any honorific.  Mizuki makes strange distinctions.  The definition of "vector" is from Merriam Webster, though the title was inspired by a Sakamoto Maaya song.  I realize my Mizuki voice is quite different from the manga one, so think of it as a future point of view after she's been in Japan for some time.  Or something.  I guess I just feel as if she does all of this too easily.

Main Entry: vec·tor 

Function:_ noun_

Etymology: New Latin, from Latin, carrier, from vehere to carry -- more at WAY

Date: 1846

1 a : a quantity that has magnitude and direction and that is commonly represented by a directed line segment whose length represents the magnitude and whose orientation in space represents the direction; broadly : an element of a vector space b : a course or compass direction especially of an airplane

            Ashiya Mizuki was homesick.  Homesickness hit her in bouts.  It snuck up on her, mainly, because it always surprised her that she might miss home.  She eventually learned that she did not miss home—that wasn't what her homesickness was.   What she truly missed was the honesty.  Mizuki had never been an incredibly honest person, not a liar, but also not opposed to bending the truth when need be, and coming to Japan she had not been prepared for the sheer magnitude of her lie.  She had chosen to change herself.  More than that, though, she had chosen to remake herself, to become someone new.  A male Ashiya Mizuki.  She had not thought that it would be that different.  It was.  She felt bad about creating the male Ashiya Mizuki.  She felt bad because of Nakatsu, Nakatsu who made her feel bittersweet at best.

            Nakatsu liked her.  Him.  Liked Ashiya Mizuki, from what he'd seen of he/she/it.  Liked it enough to want to dance with it, to befriend it, to want what was best for it.  Liked it enough to leave it to its own decisions, to only question once.  He liked it enough to question if Sano Izumi could really make it happy.  Mizuki wondered too.  She felt bad about Nakatsu, felt bad that he didn't even know who she was.  Sometimes she didn't know who she was either.  She grounded herself in Ashiya Mizuki, even though she knew of two Ashiya Mizukis (and she was both.  He was both).  

            Ashiya Mizuki could barely stand her lie anymore.  She hurt Nakatsu (who wanted what was best for her) and she tormented herself with a world of what-ifs.  Most of those what-ifs related directly to Sano Izumi (who might not be able to really make he/she/it happy).  

            Mizuki had discovered (after quite a long struggle) that every part of her, every being that existed and made up whatever she had become, loved Sano Izumi.  Not long after that, Nakatsu had told her that if Sano Izumi was so hard to love, she should love him.  Mizuki could not, though she wished she could and though she knew that it was in her best interest.  Because she loved Sano.  And he loved Sano.  And while she might get homesick for being the girl Ashiya Mizuki in America, she knew that she would get more homesick for Izumi Sano.  So she'd go home (to Japan, to Sano, to Ashiya Mizuki the boy) and see Sano because he had somehow become more important than the truth.  

            She liked speaking Japanese, though.  She liked the way that she never had to be given a gender, the way that there was no difference in "he" and "she."  Only "I."  It was in her hands.  She thought in feminine, talked in masculine, and did not get confused.  She somehow did not get confused.  

            It would have been easier if Mizuki-chan and Mizuki-kun (as she could call them only because she separated them from herself and made them strange other people) had been easily confused.  If she had felt that she was definitively one of them instead of definitively neither of them.

            "Oi, Ashiya.  What are you thinking of with such a serious face?" asked Sano.  Mizuki turned.  

            "Nothing!" she said, laughing.  He said it too.  Mizuki didn't know who said what anymore.  Blushing.

            Sano looked at Mizuki for a long moment, and then walked over to talk.  "Do you miss America?"

            "Eh?"

            "It's easy for us being in the same country as our parents and friends, but what about you?  How is it to be oceans away?"

            Mizuki thought.  Mizuki thought for a long time, trying to put into Mizuki-kun (who did not know Mizuki-chan existed) words what she/he had been thinking.  

            "It's not as bad as I thought it would be.  I had been worried about the language, but it's all right."

            "And the family?"

            Boys don't miss family like girls do.  He was treating Mizuki like a girl.  He often did.  She liked it.  It grounded her somewhat.  It gave her hope (because she wished that Sano would be different than Nakatsu and not fall for Mizuki-kun.  Because she wanted him for herself).  

            "Fine."

            "Ashiya," he said finally, "you don't have to pretend anymore."

            Mizuki's heart began to beat faster.

            "I know you're a girl.  And I don't mind.  I love you anyway."

            Mizuki shook her head.  Sano was silent, as always.  That was Mizuki's favorite fantasy—not just Sano's love (somehow, that wasn't enough for fantasies), but also his acceptance.  He had to know she was Ashiya Mizuki, a girl, and love her for that and love her for Mizuki-kun too because there were things she'd learned here, done here, that had become a part of her.  She sighed.

            "You're still sad, Ashiya," Sano observed.

            "Yes.  I am."  Male, even though Mizuki-kun wasn't really sad because he didn't know the problem.  Mizuki-chan was showing again.  

            Sano looked visibly shaken.  "What's wrong?"

            "Homesick, I guess.  You brought it up and I remembered it."

            Mizuki looked away to make sure her eyes didn't show the lie (though they must have always been lying).

            As if she could ever forget home.

            She didn't see Sano, looking after her, worried.  He worried about his roommate a great deal, wondering if it was hard to lie all the time.

            The difficulty wasn't what worried Mizuki anymore.  It was the ease.  

owari.


End file.
